


Reconnecting

by unamyuzedwriter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 08:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15360183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unamyuzedwriter/pseuds/unamyuzedwriter
Summary: The truth got out, Haggar had publicly revealed herself as Honerva when refusing to take an order from Zarkon she did not agree with. When they finally got together to speak about what should be done next they end up in each other's arms after 10k years apart and estranged.





	Reconnecting

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in mid-February, a month before the Season 5 dropped. So if it seams a bit OOC, it is mainly because in canon of S5 and S6 Haggar up and left Zarkon instead of challenging his authority nor actually talking to one another. Lack of communication kills, folks.

“High Priestess!” It was the third, or was it the fifth, time she was being addressed. Haggar barely registered the others through the deep aching tiredness. She had to fight to emerge from the paralyzing warmth back to reality. She cracked her eyes open, tracking to source of the voice. In the fog she recognized the Commanders uniform, then the face, it was Commander Ladnok. Then past her and to the side, another one, one of Zarkon’s subordinates. Commander Trugg? She fought to get the name, but she was sure of it. Trugg stood aloof with her her arms folded behind her back. None of her druids were around, was something so impersonal relegated to “military work” then?

 

“One of them is alive at least,” Trugg said under her breath, a comment that held as much sternness as there was releaf. Ladnok did not turn to pay attention to the other. 

 

“The Emperor isn’t responding, High Priestess,” Ladnok had crouched down to face level with Haggar beside the bed.  “We had tried to wake him first. You’re the only one that would know what to do.”

  
“What…” her voice came out like cotton, tough and dry. She coughed to clear her throat. “What time is it?”

 

“High Priestess, you and The Emperor have been hidden in here for almost three days together,” Trugg answered. 

 

Three days?! Haggar tried to sit up. Not only did her body not want to respond, she noticed he had his arm curled tightly around her midsection keeping her pinned to the bed beside him. Zarkon was laying on his stomach, face buried in the sheets, her sheets on her bed. She was on her back, splayed out, with his left arm around her and her left arm under him. They were both unclothed and both would have been left exposed to the world if it wasn’t for the red curtains hanging from the bedposts providing some privacy to the rest of the open room.

 

Moving her free arm and fingers was like trying to make a wet noodle stand on end. Haggar managed to flop her numb hand up to grasp hold of the arm around her to feebly pry at it unsuccessfully. She glared back at the two commanders and hissed:  “Roll him over and help me get up.” 

 

Ladnok reached a hesitant hand forward to brush

the tips of her claws on the prone arm wrapped around the Priestess. When whatever shock the Commander was expecting to happen didn’t happen, she took a firm hold of their Emperor’s bare forearm and untucked it from around the Priestess, crossing it across his lower back. She slipped both her hands down between the Priestess’s necked body and his bare shoulder and chest. She braced one knee on the bedside for leverage and lifted him far enough for Trugg to pull the Priestess out from underneath. The Emperor gave one deep guttural breath and went still again.

 

“Praise the stars, at least he’s not dead,” Ladnok said as she lowered him back down.

 

“He has to go back in his suit. He will wake up after that.” Haggar explained. She was still laying flat on the bed, dazed and completely disheveled, with the prim Trugg half-sitting on the bed beside her. Haggar felt as helpless as small necked chick surrounded the much taller and larger feline Galra. She couldn’t feel anything from her tits to her toes, and her eyeballs wanted to jump out of her skull and run away. 

 

“Can I be frank, High Priestess?” Trugg droned in her proper manor. 

 

“No.” Haggar told her flatly. 

 

“Do you think you can walk?”

 

Haggar pursed her lips. “... Maybe.”

 

“I am going to order drones to draw a bath for you and the Emperor,” she said while dialing on the screen projecting from her wrist computer. 

 

“The Emperor will have to be woken up before he could be properly dressed,” Ladnok had left briefly and returned with a  glass of water in her hand, which she held out to the Priestess. Trugg tipped her up and forward into a sitting position, she ran her fingers through the Altean’s white hair to straighten it back over her shoulders and out of her face. Haggar’s shaking hand lifted the glass to her lips and she slowly sipped at the tap-cold water. 

 

“His armor was left on the bathroom floor. It will need to be collected first. There should be enough quintessence stored in the containment tubes of his breastplate to wake him,” Haggar instructed. 

 

“He needs to be recharged like a battery?” Ladnok cocked her head to the side at the peculiar notion. 

 

“It sounds more like a jump-start than a recharge,” Trugg dryly remarked back. 

 

“Just get the armor,” Haggar hissed. The two commanders startled reflexively, but just as quick collected their composure and marched off towards the adjoining bathing chamber. Haggar became aware rather fast that she was still necked and too weak to get out of bed herself.  “And for fuck-sake bring me a robe!” 

 

Haggar looked aside at the still form of her husband and emperor. They had over extended themselves, he more-so than she. When she told him about her memories was like a dam that broke free. Ten-thousand years of repressed lust and possession for a wife he couldn’t have, the one thing he couldn’t just take without destroying the respect and loyalty that remained between them.

 

She had refused a direct order, something she had never done before to his face and in public no less. She had acted alone before, independent from any wish or desire of his, but never outright refused to do anything he commanded, at least not in the ten-thousand years since they had been revived. She bitterly remembered telling him off many years ago, back when they could love openly and freely, when they were alive. Then he was the one to capitulate and bend to her will, nothing she did was wrong to him. He would do anything for her, he doomed his planet and damned his own existence for her. 

 

In her anger and frustration she told him about regaining her memories, told him how she gained them from looking through his when he was in a coma. He had went eerily quiet before dismissing her from the court with a warning, that if she was not going to help him she had no reason to be there. She was sent to her chambers and was to remain there until summoned. He did come for her the following evening, over a day after being dismissed. He had waited until moments before her weekly bath to make his appearance, not only being mildly inconvenient to her, but proving to her that he did pay attention to her schedule more than she thought he did. 

 

She had even told him, and he acknowledged that it was by design. He kept his tone mild and dismissed the subject as unimportant when she brought up her refusal the day before. She said it was not her place to question his orders so publicly. He told her that she was his wife not his subordinate and she had every right to question his orders when she deemed necessary.  It was because after all these thousands of years she had chose yesterday to act like his wife and not the witch which caught him off guard. There was not enough time to deal with it right then and there, so he believed it was best to send her away until a better time arose for them to talk.

 

He asked why she hadn’t told him months ago; she dragged him back from the brink and yet didn’t tell him. She responded that it was because he didn’t tell her who she really was; that he didn’t make any effort to inlighten her on her past, their past together. 

 

“I could have told you,” he answered. “I could have shoved it in your face until I made you believe what was being told to you was the truth. You would have doubted if what was said was real or not. That you were being implanted with false memories, lies, and convenient truths. You would have loathed what was being done to you, you would have loathed what was being told to you.  If you did not remember on your own, nothing said would have mattered.”

  
“So you  _ chose _ to gave me a name that was not my own and buried me in my work to keep me occupied?”

 

“You were safe!” he growled, the mask hiding whatever expression would have been on his face. She froze in place like an animal.  He gave a deep sigh, the lights of his eyes giving off a pink fog. “You were safe. By my side, and anonymous. Nobody needed to know who you really were. The Alteans destroyed our planet and we destroyed theirs. To this day, ten-thousand years later, this is a fact known to even Galra children. Blood is blood, and you are my wife, not some sacrifice to be strung up to appease the public. It was best for Honerva to remain dead in their eyes.”

 

“That’s them, this is me!” she held her chest, clutching tightly at her night robes. “I wanted to know. To have been told and have it left up to me to chose what was real or not. If I didn’t want to believe it, then it would have been my problem to deal with. I did seek the truth on my own. I had tried, but I had no name to search for. I didn’t even know where to begin. I don’t even look like myself anymore, I barely resemble one of my own kind. This decrepit form--” 

 

“Don’t,” he asserted, she pressed her lips together into a thin line. She lowered her head, away from him. Seeing her arm, the blue skin-tone had changed to a bronzy tan. She had transformed to look like her past self, she let it slip away to return to her neutral unnatural self. 

 

“Is that all you wanted to say, My Emperor?” Haggar stiffened her posture. She could see him bristle through the layers of armor. 

 

“No. But if you are wanting to dismiss me, then I will leave, My  _ Wife, _ ” he retorted with the same formality and bitter coldness. She raised her head to glare at him. She was positive he would be returning the favor if his face wasn’t obscured by the shield plate. 

 

“Do not call me that,” she whispered.

 

“You are my wife, and you had told everyone so. There is no turning back.  We have no other choice but to move forward, Honerva.”

 

Her true name coming from his lips sent chills down her back. She clasped her mouth to hold back the frustrated cry that wanted to escape. She had forgotten how big his hands were until he came forward to lower her arm and take hold of her hand within them.  His hulking armored form towered over reminding her of her own smallness, something she hadn’t been as keenly aware of in decades in spite of being surrounded by a people much taller than she was; it was that she had stopped thinking about because it wasn’t important. The blank lifeless mask gazed down at her, but his gloved hands engulfed hers so gently. 

 

“Is this how you had thought would happen all these thousands of years, everything all of a sudden, like this?” 

 

“No,” he ran his fingers along the back of her small hand thinking what else to say. “Perhaps it was better this way. We can prepare for any repercussions together…” He broke off, his grasp on her forearm becoming firmer. He had soon filed that thought away, and with resolve he declared:  “The universe can burn if anything were to happen.”

 

“If they were to come after me just for being who I was, for being your wife,” she knew what he was getting on about. He wasn’t concerned about repercussions against his person, and the politics, logistics, and rumor mills are of no concern to either of them: it was if someone was to come after her, to attempt to take her life, to get at him and to destabilize the Empire further. They would think she was the weakest link without realizing that SHE had been the power behind the Emperor all these thousands of years. He wouldn’t survive without her, where as she could endure without him, even though she’ll be on the run and in hiding if that were to come to pass. 

 

“I will have to interrogate the entire staff on this ship right away,” she said. “Find out whose loyalties can be relied upon. I will have to question my druids, the commanders--”

 

“That can wait.” 

 

“No it can't. If any of those traitors had plans already in place they would have set them in motion yesterday.” She attempted to break away, he drew her closer instead. Her running list of thoughts and plans discarded in that moment. 

 

“There have always been malcontents unhappy with how I had kept you by my side. They saw no reason why I’ve done so. Why I would take counsel with you, this outsider in their eyes, over their own. Their voices have been silenced once and for all. Any foolish enough to uphold that belief will be broken.” 

 

“You’re being too cautious, Sire. It is not like you to be so: we need to take action now,” she glared up into the glowing eyes of the mask. 

 

“Honerva,” he sounded exasperated, she didn’t change her expression regardless. “I am aware of the threat, but that is not what I am wanting to take care of at this specific moment. If it were, I would not be here.”

 

“Then what do you want?”

 

“You.” 

 

She looked down at her hand buried in both of his between them.  Turning back upwards, her nose crawling sideways on her face, and with her blunt resolve: “What? Sex?”

 

That got him to let go and take a step back to regard her. “That was… subtle.”

 

He had always been terrible when it came to relationships, she knew. He tiptoed around her for weeks when they first met, unable to even start a conversation with her.  If she wanted something she had to go to him, and even then he was unsure about what to say or do around her. She thought about these past thousands of years, of him not telling her about their past and waiting for her to come back. Then of him showing up here, at this time. He was thinking that far ahead, but wasn’t expecting anything to come of it, or for her to explode at him and chase him off (which was what almost happened anyways).   He had established that he wouldn’t roll over to her will, but he would still take whatever she tossed at him if she chose to act as the wife instead of the witch. 

 

“It’s going to be weird and awkward for the both of us,” she said, sighing. “Our bodies aren’t even the same like when we were young. It would be a lot of figuring out what still does work and what needs to be compensated for.” 

 

“... Right.” He had averted his eyes from her, she had him flustered by her forwardness. “We don’t have to go right into that. We can start small, like with a kiss.”

 

“You’re going to have to take off the helmet,” she drawled. 

 

He peeled off his gloves, bundling them together, and tossing them aside. He then ran his fingers along the lip of the mask, releasing locking mechanisms that kept it in place. With a hissing expulsion of purple steam, a seam across the bridge of his nose split apart, the mawl piece seperating from the crown. The mask came unhinged, and with a twist he freed the whole apparatus from his face and dropped it to the floor. 

 

“Well?” he asked, his voice clearer now that it was unhindered. He was rubbing at the back of one of his pointed ears, itchy from having the helmet docked on them for so long.  It’s been months since she seen his face, not since he had just awakened from a coma. He had been pumped full of so much quintessence that his eyes had a purple hazy smoke curling outward from them, whereas prior to his coma they still glowed but were not as intense. 

 

She reached up, resting her hands on both of his cheeks. He leaned towards her, but she kept him at arm's length. Confused, he was about to inquire what was wrong, which she stopped with a hush. She slowly ran her thumbs over the lines on his face, down the scar that trailed from brow to lip on his left side. He snuck a brief kiss on her palm when she came near his lips, but she continued probing across his jawline, studying his features with her fingers. 

 

She didn’t notice when he had reached behind her until he took hold of the back of her hood. She turned, watching his arm lift it from her head. When she traced her gaze back down the length of his arm, he was leaned over, eye level to her, and their lips met. Surprised and if not a little embarrassed she hid her face in her hands. He pulled her into his arms, but it wasn’t close enough for either of them with the bulky armor putting a barrier between them. 

 

She broke free from his embrace, yet keeping hold of his arm, and lead him across her chambers towards the baths. “Come on. I’ll help you get out of that suit.”

 

It took about an hour to find their rhythm. It wasn’t nearly as weird as she first thought, it was quite errotic in fact, the both of them slowly touching and prodding one another with their fingers and lips until they could work out what was mutually pleasurable.  Their muscles worked as they should, but it took more effort to feel sensations in their extremities.

 

Time became irrelevant, they ebbed and flowed with their desires. They took breaks to catch their breaths, but soft kisses and playful gestures brought them back into each other's arms. Each break slowly grew longer and became more frequent until finally they laid still, completely spent and bone-weary tired, and did not stir until being interrupted. 

 

The Commanders returned with their cargo in tow. Trugg draped a slip of a robe around the Altean’s tiny shoulders. Ladnok carried the back-half of the breastplate that contained the half-filled tubes of quintessence and placed it on the bed at Haggar’s feet. 

 

“High Priestess, you are going to have to instruct us on what to do. This druid magic is far out of our realm,” Ladnok then said. 

 

“There is no magic,” Haggar eyed the galra. “Just lay it across his shoulders. There is a command codex in the Emperor’s faceplate that would activate the injectors.”

 

Ladnok did as she instructed while Trugg went to recover the mask from the sitting room floor. Trugg sat the mask face-down on Haggar’s lap, the holo-screens already active and ready for the command. Haggar’s shaky hand tapped the sequence in, the tubes rotated on the backplate and hissed, the violet-pink quintessence draining from them. 

 

Zarkon gave a deep grumbling breath, his arms and feet twitching as their sensations returned. Trugg and Ladnok had stepped back, away from the bedside, scurrying across the room. Haggar gave them a withering glare before turning back to Zarkon. He had his arms under him and was pushing himself upright, growling at what Haggar could only imagine from her own condition to be excruciating pain. He forced his knees under his body and leaned back to sit upright on his hindquarters. He looked about, almost drunkenly, first at his curtained surroundings before settling downward at the crumpled form of his wife on the bed beside him. He reached over to her, touching her cheek, then moved a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. 

 

“We both look like shit,” he said, bluntly. 

 

“How astute,” she remarked back. He straightened up, this time really taking in his surroundings and piece together where their current situation stood.  He finally noticed the two commanders across the room, both trying their hardest not to even look in his general direction. 

 

“What happened?” he asked. 

 

“We were in a coma for a day and a half. So we have been missing for almost three days,” Haggar answered. He frowned at her and she showed him the display in his helmet giving the time and date. 

 

“I am curious as to why none of your druids came looking for you.”

 

“Why was that?” Haggar turned to ask the question to the two commanders. 

 

Ladnok bowed deeper as she answered: “They did, High Priestess. That is what their chief reported. One of them came in a day ago and thought it was best not to disturb either of you then. It wasn’t until a full day later did they begin to worry and contacted Commander Trugg and myself about the situation.” 

 

“They unlocked the door and then left in a hurry, Sire,” Trugg added. 

 

_ Those cowards _ , Haggar thought inwardly. 

 

“Cowards,” Zarkon said outwardly. “No matter, they will be dealt with soon. I want a full status report from the past three days brought to me in the hour, Commander Trugg. You both are dismissed.”

 

They saluted in unison, “Vrepit-Sa.”

 

“Wait! Get back here,” Haggar called out, haulting them in their tracks. Zarkon furrowed his eyebrows, questioning. Through her teeth she told him: “I can’t walk and you can’t get around on your own either.”

 

“I’m well enough,” he growled back. 

 

“Prove it,” she prodded him.

 

He huffed at her. “I don’t have to.”

 

“Then the statement still stands, unlike you nor I.”

 

They exchanged annoyed stairs in silence.

 

Commander Trugg cleared her throat, drawing their attention up on her. The Commander stood at military-perfect attention: “May I have permission to be frank, Your Highness?” 

 

“No,” they both said. 

 

“Very well,” the commander flinched. “I can I arrange for attendants to come in, will that would be a favorable compromise?” 

 

“That will do, Commander.”

 

“No it won't,” Haggar countered. “We don't need to bring more people into this. The fewer hands and eyes the better.”

 

“Honerva, it won't matter. Half the Empire already knows.”

 

“Those people don't need to see us half-naked together either. It is bad enough to have been found in such an uncompromising position in the first place. I would like to keep a shred of my dignity.” 

 

Zarkon’s eyebrows had skewed and he sighed. “Very well. Do whatever my wife demands.”

 

“Sire?” Ladnok asked. 

 

“Her word is my word and will be obeyed as diligently.” 

 

“As you desire, Emperor Zarkon,” Trugg bowed, as did Ladnok.  Both Commanders turned to Honerva, crossing their fists to their chest. 

 

Ladnok spoke next: “We are yours to command, High Lady Honerva.”


End file.
